#tower of god 481

[kairyuuyaps]

Tower of God Chapter 481

Disclaimer: this is mainly just me ranting about King Jahad

So this chapter we were treated to a flashback featuring his royal highness King Jahad himself and BOY does this man have and inflated ego. He seems awfully confident in his own greatness - which stands in stark contrast to everything we know about him. Granted, what we know is spotty, most likely biased and definitely too little to make an exhaustive analysis and judgement of his character, but it's what we have to work with.

"I was the first one to climb the tower. I was the greatest fisherman in battle... and I pioneered a civilization of mutual understanding among the people of the tower"

Ok, first off, the only rights being first at something gives you are bragging rights, nothing else. It doesn't mean you are better than anyone or something. Also, there were like AT LEAST a dozen other people climbing with you. So tecnically you were one of the first and most importantly it was a team effort.

Second, being great at kicking ass rarely translates to being a good politician (yes Kings are politicians don't @ me). You might've even been a great leader when it was just you and your friends, but making split-second decisions in the heat of battle is not what you need to be the head of an empire. A king needs foresight (not the magical kind), wisdom, common sense. They need to be able to deal with paperwork, politicians, people. Things Jahad is not.

Third, "mutual understanding"?!? Are you fucking kidding me? We know there was civilization before you came. We know you are the invader in the tower. And there's NO WAY I will EVER consider the climate in the tower one of "mutual understanding". Not when people kill each other over even just the chance to get to the next floor. Not when people struggle for bare survival, backstabbing and betraying each other at every curve and end. I don't know in what delusion you live Jahad, but this is not "mutual understanding"

I'd also like to remind you of a few things:

Jahad is the dude who started a war because the girl he was obsessed with rejected his advances. No, he wasn't in love with her. He declared war on her and her allies because she married a different man and didn't agree with settling down instead of continuing to climb. He gleefully murdered her child in front of her eyes and rejoiced in the chance to do so again. It's the Snily catastrophe all over again.

Jahad is the one who decided that because he wanted to stop climbing no one else should be allowed to keep going. Those who still wanted to were hunted, ostracised and villanised. He literally wanted to murder everyone who disagreed with him but was too lazy to do it with his own hands. That's the LITERAL definition of what a Tirant and Despot is.

Jahad is the one who disassembled the Key to the Tower (aka the only thing allowing people to climb in the first place) and went as far as creating a curse of sorts to keep anyone from reassembling it to make sure his ideals wouldn't be betrayed or you'd die trying.

There is not a single thing we know of pointing to Jahad being anything even close to barely competent as a ruler. Period

[shadoedseptmbr]

I posted 3,190 times in 2021

520 posts created (16%)

2670 posts reblogged (84%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.1 posts.

I added 1,965 tags in 2021

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Longest Tag: 122 characters

#if the main difference is that steve grew up in an america that had been through a blender but was just realizing strength

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

wip wednesday

@nug-juggler tagged me for a snippet, but to be honest, everything i’m writing right now is awful.  (it will get better, i have faith, but it’s awful right now) SO have a little bit of something i’ve been editing for a while.  A series of Kaidan, snooping in the SPECTRE files, trying to catch up on the year of Aedan’s life he missed: 

CASE FILE 7819-85/219/AS 

And how do you feel about that?

I signed away rights to my likeness when I signed on with the Alliance.  They’re welcome to it, if it gets them some recruits.  Though, I’d bet that’s down as of late.  

You have resigned from the Alliance, though.  Why would you care about recruitment?

Resigned? I came straight to Alliance contacts as soon as I was given any control over my movement.  I came with the ship and the whole crew at the time.  I came to the Ambassador’s office on the Citadel, offered to hand over any intelligence I had at hand, and offered to put myself under Alliance surveillance five days after I woke up on a table and under fire.  And I was told I was shit out of luck, so hey, can’t blame a gal for trying, right?  Subject is smiling, continued eye contact; interviewer J takes another sip of water and moves chair back.

You maintain that you were dead and not in hiding.

I may not have been dead.  I have no memory of anything after passing out when my lung exploded while my oxygen bled out into space.  I think that’s what it was.  Maybe my eye?  Something Subject pauses very painful Subject pauses occurred.  And then I woke up on a table in a medbay with alarms sounding and mechs shooting at me and little red lights burning under holes in my skin.  Subject smiles again, continued eye contact;  Interviewer J stands up.

I…There are records that need to be reviewed before this debrief continues. 

Why don’t you go do that, then? Subject smiles until door closes; maintains requested posture until requested to present hands for restraint. 

Recommendation: Remove Interviewer J from Case File 7819 as requested. Review subject file. 

She woke up on a table, under fire?  Alone?  Had she said anything?  He blinks hard trying to replay those conversations.  They’d avoided...most of it.  How do we get past Horizon...

His hand slips off the haptic display.  She woke up alone after dying and had to fight her way out.  

The VI prompts, “Do you wish to continue the search?”

She woke up alone.  And no one she knew came looking for her.

Oh, god.

69 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 00:56:43 GMT

#4

81 notes • Posted 2021-05-23 18:22:10 GMT

#3

Loooook at my girl ahhhhhh Aedan Shepard- Earthborn, War Hero.

@nightmarestudio606 gave me the BEST birthday gift I've gotten in an age. My scowly darling ahhhhh

the background just sets her up perfectly, a reminder of who she was, what she carries. Like I said, she'd have never become Commander Shepard without being Ace, first.

106 notes • Posted 2021-07-03 06:49:08 GMT

#2

Adorable head tilt is adorable

127 notes • Posted 2021-05-18 01:21:26 GMT

#1

At the borders of Ferelden, there are roses.

It startled travelers, at first. Dirty, doggish Ferelden. To be greeted at the waypoints, the gateways with such a delicate scent.

Mostly red. Some white and pink. Climbing along fences, twining up guard towers. And...this is the important bit...full of tiny, viscious thorns.

Diplomats report that there was no decree sent forth. No edict from the palace in Denerim. Just one day, a bann here or there decided to make a pretty hedgerow. Fereldens don't like their leaders to put on too many airs, so it was logical the common folk would add their own- to mark a gate or a path or a death.

They grow at the crossroads as well. If you see one bush, seemingly random along the road? Look up and there will be another, blazing color in the distance beckoning a weary traveler forward.

It seems odd here, in backwater Ferelden, where the streets are mud even in the towns, to find your path suddenly fragrant and peppered with petals.

It seems odd they don't freeze in the terrible winters. It's said the roses at the palace bloom all year.

A hardy variety, the locals will tell you. Pulled from the edges of the Kokari Wilds. Or the Brecillian Forest. No telling what the elves have bred into them. Or perhaps it was mages.

The crimson hips will sure carry you through a fever, though.

And as the king makes his processionals, he's sure to stop and compliment the fish wife who feeds her scarlet climbers fish guts.

And it's nice to be known to the king.

And occasionally, if the wind is right? He'll pluck a blossom (usually with permission. He's such a polite boy, Chantry manners you know).

He'll take a bloom and shatter it in his hand and let the petals catch the wind.

You never know, he'll say.

322 notes • Posted 2021-03-22 13:54:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[arua94]

Tower of God 481: KING Zahard

[towerofgodsource]

Unlocking a new skill

Tower Of God | WEBTOON Season 3: Episodes 64/65 (#481/482)

[awake-dearheart]

Get A Room [loki]

Word Count: 481

Pairing: Loki x OFC Samantha

A/N: Originally posted 10/9/19 as a blurb request from @fyrecrafted. Request is below. If you’d like to be added to my permanent taglist, just send an ask!

How about Loki and OC bounce sassiness off each other while everyone else is perturbed

OOOOOO this will be fun. I pulled a random character name I had from an OLD WIP that I never went anywhere with. Samantha is an Avenger recruit living in the tower. Her and Loki have butted heads since Thor brought him in post snap because IN THIS HOUSE we believe Thanos didn’t kill Loki. Also Tony, Steve, and Nat are alive because I live in a lovely land of denial. (This kind of turned into something a little bit different than what you asked for BUT I AIN’T MAD)

To say Samantha and Loki hated each other would be an understatement. Everyone in the tower knew to steer clear of them when they were around each other. The screaming matches the two of them got into were legend and more than once Steve had to step in to keep them separated. The thing was, nobody really knew why they hated each other so much. It seemed like one day they just mutually decided loathing was the way to go, and boy did they go with it.

“I swear to GOD Loki if you don’t get the fuck out of my face right now I’ll-” Samantha started.

“You’ll what, pet? You think you can take me on?” Loki smirked at her. They were standing in the kitchen, where Samantha had been hoping Loki wouldn’t start anything. The rest of the team were also there, attempting to enjoy breakfast without a show. Tony rolled his eyes and Steve sighed into his coffee.

“Oh I know I can,” Sam retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

“I think you’ll find I’m much more than you can handle, darling.” His voice dropped and he took another step toward her, his eyes flitting from her eyes to her lips for just a second. Samantha gulped, her throat suddenly dry. She knew Loki was a monster, was pure evil, but for some reason hearing that edge to his voice was driving her crazy.

“How do you know what I can handle?” she asked, stepping forward to match him.

“I’ve seen you in the field. You’re slow. Predictable. Weak.” Anger replaced whatever else Sam was feeling and she pulled the knife from her thigh holster. She spun Loki around and slammed him against the counter, Fisting his hair in her hand, she pulled his head back and placed the knife against his throat.

“Quick enough for you?” She asked, leaning her chest against his back. He let out a short laugh before spinning in her grasp and pinning her against the refrigerator. Her knife was still in her hand but now pressed gently against her own neck.

“Not really,” Loki quipped.

“Good god, enough!” Tony yelled from across the room.

“Either quit fighting or start fucking because we’re all going insane,” Bucky cut in. The two of them looked over, still pressed together.

“Wait, what?” Sam asked. “Why would we ever-”

“Oh please Sam, we can all see it,” Natasha said. “Nobody gets that mad without wanting it hard.”

“Jesus, Nat. Tone it down,” Steve scolded. Sam and Loki looked back at each other, taking in the words from the team. Slowly, Loki released his hold on her and Sam replaced her knife. They were silent for a few moments, before Sam seized Loki by the front of his shirt and began dragging him towards her room.

“About fucking time,” Bucky quipped as they rounded the corner.

Permanent taglist: @farfromhaz @spideyboipete @marvelxholland @gyllenwh0re @eeyore101247 @hollandraul @sunflower-spideyy @sunmoonandbucky @angelhaz11 @thefridgeismybestie @fairytaleparker @afictionaladventure16 @missmeganrachel @geeksareunique @captainsteveevans @dasexydevitt13 @my-drowning-in-time @creepylittlemarvelgirl @stabbyhat @heyhihellowhatsup0

[19crows]

The Lies of Locke Lamora - Scott Lynch

SPOILER WARNING!

Don’t know if any one will actually see this but I can never find collections of quotes including page numbers. I figured since I’m stuck in self-isolation, and incredibly bored, I’d make a collection for a few of my favourite books as I read them again. These are quotes and scenes that are my favourites (impact, emotion, etc).

__

‘Ila justicca vei cala’

‘I’ve got kids that enjoy stealing. I’ve got kids that don’t think about stealing one way or another, and I’ve got kids that just tolerate stealing because they know they’ve got nothing else to do. But nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever been hungry for it like this boy. If he had a bloody gash across his throat and a physiker was trying to sew it up, Lamora would steal the needle and thread and die laughing. He... steals too much.’ (pg 12)

‘There are only three people in life you can never fool - pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother. Since your mother’s dead, I’ve taken her place. Hence, I’m bullshit-proof.’ (pg 27)

‘Locke Lamora’s rule of thumb was this - a good confidence game took three months to plan, three weeks to rehearse, and three seconds to win or lose the victim’s trust forever. This time around, he planned to spend those three seconds getting strangled.’ (pg 31)

‘Locke is our brother and our love for him has no bounds. But the four most fatal words in the Therin language are “Locke would appreciate it.”’ ‘Rivalled only by ‘Locke taught me a new trick,”’ added Galdo. ‘The only person who gets away with Locke Lamora games...’ ‘...is Locke...’ ‘...because we think the gods are saving him up for a really big death. Something with knives and hot irons...’ ‘...and fifty thousand cheering spectators.’ (pg 62)

‘Unbelievable! Taken in so fast, by such a simple trick. Well, my father used to say that one moment of misjudgment at the Revel is worth ten at any other time.’ (pg 89)

‘What kind of knife is this?’ Locke held a rounded buttering utensil up for Chains’ inspection. ‘It’s all wrong. You couldn’t kill anyone with this.’ (pg 99)

‘I only steal because my dear old family needs the money to live!’ ‘Liar!’ ‘I only steal because this wicked world won’t let me work an honest trade!’ 'LIAR!' ‘I only steal because I have to support my poor lazy twin brother, whose indolence broke our mother’s heart!’ ‘LIAR!’ ‘I only steal because I’ve temporarily fallen in with bad company. ‘LIAR!’ ‘I only steal because it’s heaps of fucking fun!’ ‘BASTARD!’ (pg 107)

‘You’re one third bad intentions, one third pure avarice, and one eighth sawdust. What’s left, I’ll credit, must be brains.’ (pg 118)

‘Well, this is the damnedest damn thing that ever dammed things up for us.’ (pg 181)

‘And let me emphasize that you can’t make the corpse yourself.’ (pg 188)

‘Nice bird, arsehole.’ (pg 214)

‘So eat hemp and shit rope, Bondsmage.’ (pg 214)

‘Gods! You’re quiet!’ ‘Not all the time,’ Locke stepped to within a few feet of the larger boy. ‘I can be very loud, when I’m being stupid.’ (pg 234)

‘Beer now, bitch later.’ (pg 251)

‘That fucker,’ Jean’s hands balled into fists. ‘I could do so much to him, without killing him. I very much hope I get to try.’ (pg 251)

‘There are a few things I want to ask him[the Grey King]. Philosophical questions. Like, “How does it feel to be dangled out a window by a rope tied around your balls, motherfucker?”’ (pg 275)

‘This is a fantastically silly moment to start giving a shit.’ (pg 276)

‘Hold it!’ Locke cried, waving both of his hands. ‘Whoa! I know what this looks like, but you’ve got the wrong idea, friend.’ He pointed at the petrified woman clinging to the hanging bed. ‘She came before we came!' (pg 280)

‘For the love of the gods, madam,’ snapped Locke, ‘can you please pick one man in your bedroom to cheer for and stick with him?’ (pg 280)

‘It’s not polite to hit girls.’ ‘It’s even less polite to hit my friends.’ (pg 308)

‘Many things are commonly thought, but perhaps not commonly thought all the way through.’ (pg 319)

‘Calo and Galdo lay beside it, on their backs, staring up in the semi-darkness. Their throats were slashed from ear to ear, a pair of smooth gashes - identical twin wounds.’ (pg 342)

‘The things I could do to you if I were to stitch your true name.’ (pg 343)

‘You brave little idiot. You brave, stupid little bastard. This is my fault, Bug, please... please say this is all my fault.' (pg 346)

‘I promise you a death-offering, brothers,’ Locke whispered when he’d finished. ‘I promise you an offering that will make the gods take notice. An offering that will make the shades of all the Dukes and Capas of Camorr feel like paupers. An offering in blood and gold and fire. This I swear by Aza Guilla who gathers us, and by Perelando who sheltered us, and by the Crooked Warden who places his finger on the scale when our souls are weighed. This I swear to Chains, who kept us safe. I beg forgiveness that I failed to do the same.’ (pg 348)

‘I’ll do more than that. Whatever he’s planning, I will unmake it. Whatever he desires, I will destroy it. Every reason you came down here to murder my friends will evaporate. Every Grey King’s man will die for nothing, starting with you.’ (pg 349)

‘When you see the Crooked Warden,’ said Locke, twisting something in his hands, ‘tell him that Locke Lamora learns slowly, but he learns well. And when you see my friends, you tell them that there are more of you on the way.’ (pg 350)

‘I’m only good at breaking people; I don’t put them back together.’ (pg 385)

‘You have a plan?’ ‘No,’ said Locke. ‘Not even a speck of one. Not the damnedest idea. But don’t all my better schemes start like this? I’ll find an opening, somehow… and then I suppose I’ll be rash.’ (pg 398)

‘Crooked Warden,’ he whispered, ‘I’m going into this counting house and I’m going to come out with what I need. I’d like your aid. And if I don’t get it, well, to hell with you. I’ll come out with what I need anyway.’ (pg 402)

‘You’re bleeding hard, Tannen. You won’t live out the night, you fucking bastard.’ ‘That’s Gentleman Bastard,’ he said. ‘And there’s a chance I won’t. But you know what? Calo and Galdo Sanza are laughing at you, bitch.’ (pg 440)

‘...I’d be very curious to hear just where I fucked up and tipped you off.’ (pg 470)

‘I am the Idiot King,’ he muttered, ‘of all the world’s fucking idiots.’ (pg 470)

‘That shape you saw, darting out from the tower? Bird. Biggest gods-damned bird you ever saw… It was a bird, right?’ ‘Biggest gods-damned bird we ever saw.’ (pg 472)

‘Locke smiled the cruellest smile he’d ever worn in his entire life as he rose to his feet.’(pg 479)

‘Just one question, you arrogant fucking cocksucker,’ said Locke. ‘I’ll grant the Lamora part is easy to spot… But what the fuck,’ he said slowly, ‘ever gave you the fucking idea that Locke was the first name I was actually born with?’ (pg 480)

‘I’m not going to kill you,’ said Locke. ‘I’m going to play a little game I like to call “Scream in pain until you answer my fucking questions.”’ (pg 481)

‘Because I tied that Bondsmage to the floor just an hour or two ago...I cut off his fingers to get him to talk, and when he’d confessed everything I wanted to hear, I had his fucking tongue cut out, and the stump cauterized… I called him an arsehole, too. He didn’t like that.’ (pg 497)

‘Aza Guilla,’ Locke whispered, ‘give me justice for the death of my friends. Give me blood for the death of my brothers.’ (pg 515)

‘I don’t have to beat you, motherfucker. I just have to keep you here… until Jean shows up.’ (pg 517)

‘So this is revenge.’ ‘It is.’ ‘It’s a shit business.’ (pg 519)

‘Some day, Locke Lamora,’ he said, ‘some day, you’re going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I’m still around to see it.’ ‘Oh, please,’ said Locke. ‘It’ll never happen.’ (pg 521)

[apenitentialprayer]

European Christianization and the Eternal Fate of Pagan Ancestors

”The relationship between the living and dead members of their clan has long been seen as an essential one in early medieval society. The dead constituted an age class that continued to have a role and to exercise rights in society. Archaeologists have suggested that the rich grave goods in burials of the ate fifth and sixth centuries were evidence of this importance in Reihengräberzivilization, in which ancestors played the role of intermediaries between the clans and tribes (Stämme) and the gods. Kurt Böhner and others have thus suggested that Christianity, which greatly lessens the role of the dead, must have had a fundamental impact on the place of the dead in in Merovingian society: “The profound change that Christianity brought with it is shown most clearly with relationships with the dead. Although these were once ancestors of many clans and tribes in which they lived on and enjoyed divine or quasi-divine veneration, they now entered the eternality of Christ.” As evidence of this essential transformation in relationship between the living and their ancestors,  Böhner cites the famous passage from the Vita S. Vulframni in which the Frisian duke Radbod, about to be baptized, asked Wulfram, the bishop of Sens, whether there were many Frisian kings and princes in heaven or in hell. Wulfram answered that, since these praedecessores had not been baptized, they were surely in hell. Hearing this pronouncement, the duke determined not to be baptized, saying that he could not do without the company of his predecessors. This text, whose importance for historical ethnography Herwig Wolfram has emphasized, seems however to contradict other archaeological evidence which, as we shall see, places in doubt Böhner’s interpretation both of the process of Christianization and of the account in the Vita Vulframni.

Radbod died in 719 and, it can be assumed, joined his damned ancestors. Around the same time or shortly before in the Rhineland near Alzey, Frankish nobles were founding a funerary chapel that served to preserve the memory of their pagan ancestors and, in a functional sense, to Christianize them retroactively. The church in question was Flonheim, and the careful archaeological study of the site by Hermann Ament suggests that the theological response to Radbod’s question presents only part of the eighth century reality. On December 29, 1876, the parish of Flonheim was destroyed by fire. During reconstruction between 1883 and 1885 it was discovered that the church stood on the foundations of a much older building, within which were found ten Frankish burials. The oldest portion of the church was a tower, the upper part of which was Gothic; the lower, Romanesque of ca. 1100. The foundations of the Romanesque portions of the tower, a crypt, were older still; and directly under this oldest portion of the old church, was a particularly rich Frankish burial. Ament’s examination of grave goods and his reexamination of the nineteenth-century report of the excavations demonstrated that the graves were part of a larger row cemetery, traces of which had been found in the 1950s elsewhere in the village. Moreover, the ten graves appear to be those members of a wealthy clan. That in the Merovingian period a family would erect a mortuary chapel in which to bury its members would hardly be remarkable; examples are common, particularly even earlier ones in the more Romanized areas of Europe. What is remarkable, however, is that Ament’s dating of the burials, particularly of grave 5, the one directly under the tower, is so early that the burials must predate the erection of the church (first mentioned in 764/767) and, in the case of grave 5, the conversion of Clovis. Ament compares this grave -in its depth (greater than the others at Flonheim), in its furnishings, and in its relation to other graves- to grave 319 at Lavoye. The rich furnishings of grave 5 include a famous golden-handled sword and other weapons and ornaments which both in their forms and variety argue for a date conclusively for a date contemporary with the tomb of Childeric (481). Ament sees grave 5 as a founder’s burial, like that at Lavoye. Around it, in the sixth and early seventh centuries, other clan members were buried. When the chapel was built, the importance of this founder’s burial was still recalled, and its builders included the other clan graves within the confines of its walls. The erection of a chapel over the graves of a clan and the particular position given to the clearly pre-Christian burial both strongly suggest that the continuity between pre-Christian and Christian members was not broken by baptism. In fact, on a physical, structural level, the founder was given a burial infra ecclesia after the fact, thus including him in the new Christianized clan tradition. Ament has compared the situation at Flonheim to those at Arlon, Speiz-Eingien, Morken, and Beckum and suggests that these other Merovingian churches containing Frankish burials may well be similar to Flonheim; for the chapels also appear to postdate the earliest burials. The American archaeologist Bailey Young has compared these apparently ex post facto Christianizations to observations of Detler Ellmers on Swedish cemeteries and suggests that the practice of assimilating pre-Christian ancestors into the Christian cult of the dead may be detected there as well. In Sweden, with the coming of Christianity, churches were generally built near the preexisting sepulchers of prominent families, and the last furnished burials are therefore older than the actual cemeteries. Elsewhere, pagan remains were moved into Christian burial places. The most famous Christian reburial in the North is that of the Dane Harold Bluetooth’s pagan parents Gorm and Thyre at Jelling. Harold first buried his parents in a wooden chamber covered by a large mound surrounded by standing stones in an outline of a ship, giving them a traditional pagan burial. After his conversion around 960, he had his parents’ remains removed to a church. Excavations of the present stone church (ca. 1100) indicate three previous wooden churches and a large, centrally placed grave containing the disjointed remains of a man and a woman obviously reburied there after the disarticulation of the skeletons. Harold’s runestone explicitly announces that the monuments he created were dedicated “to his father Gorm and his mother Thyre,” although it goes on to say that Harold “made the Danes Christian.” In both Frankish and Scandinavian situations, the archaeological evidence seems to contradict the explicit statement of Wulfram. How is the historian to resolve this contradiction? I would suggest that it arises from two sources. The first is the difference noted above between the intellectualized articulation of belief by clerical elite and the actual societal practice, lay and clerical. The second is the way the specific circumstances of Radbod’s aborted conversion color both the question and the response, making them part of a discussion of salvation in modern Christian terms, when the real issue is ethnicity and hegemony in eighth century Frankish terms. In the case of Flonheim and similar burials, the meaning of the construction of a Christian church over a pagan tomb is implicit: the ancestors have been conjoined in the new cult as they were in the old. Conversion is not an individual, but a collective, act that involves the entire clan and people, a fact long recognized about two groups of Franks - those of Clovis’s generation and their descendants. The collective nature of conversion implicitly applies to a third group of Franks as well, their ancestors. Although Gallo-Roman authors like Gregory of Tours have emphasized Clovis’s conversion, that does not mean the Franks had lost respect for or interest in their pre-Christian ancestry. Witness the literature of Merovingian Frankish genealogy, the Liber historiae Francorum, among others. Retroactive conversion is not articulated; indeed, it would be difficult to reconcile that orthodox Christianity. But in the symbolic and ritual structure that solidified and expressed the values of Frankish-Christian civilization, a place was found for their ancestors. Here, as in the example of the ritual humiliation of the saints I mentioned earlier, the physical juxtaposition presents a meaning in a Wittgensteinian sense which was apparently accepted by the lay founders of the church at Flonheim as well as by its clerics. Perhaps, although we cannot be sure of how much they knew of its origins, even the monks at Lorsch, to whom the church was given in the 760s, perceived this meaning. Thus the Franks of Flonheim, pagan and Christian, could keep each other company in the next life but not, apparently, Radbod and his pagan ancestors. It is tempting to cast this distinction in terms of the supposed two stages of conversion, the first represented by a maximum accommodation to  pagan tradition; the second (and this being the case with Radbod), an insistence on an inner meaning of Christianity. In fact, this approach will hardly suffice. Frisia was, in the early eighth century, hardly into a second phase of conversion; it was at the first stage of a process that would take generations. Rather, we should consider the specific context of the efforts to convert Radbod and his Frisians. Wulfram’s contact with the duke was part of the Frankish effort to subjugate the Frisians, an effort in which conversion was specifically conversion to Frankish Christianity. After Pepin II defeated Radbod in 694, he sent Wilibrord to convert Radbod and his people. Wulfram’s efforts were part of this mission. Pepin’s intention was specifically to establish a Frankish political and cultural basis in order to pacify the region. Conversion and baptism at the hand of a Frankish bishop would have meant, then, the acceptance of a specifically Frankish ethnic identity and the rejection of Frisian autonomous traditions, political and cultural. Radbod would really have cut himself off from his ancestors, but not merely by being assured of heaven while they languished in hell; for he would have become, in a real sense, a Frank. A similar break with their ancestors was demanded of the Saxons during the eighth century. It is hardly happenstance that the earliest condemnations of traditional Germanic burial sites in favor of church cemeteries was specifically directed at Saxon Christians: “We order that the bodies of Christian Saxons be taken to the church cemeteries and not to the burial mounds of the pagans.” Likewise, the famous Indiculus superstitionum was directed specifically at those “sacrileges at the tombs of the dead” performed by the Saxons. In the case of both the Frisians and of the Saxons, the bonds uniting the conquered people to their independent ancestry had to be broken because they were a source of anti-Frankish ethnic and political identity, not simply because they were pagan in a narrow religious sense. In the entirely Frankish contexts of Flonheim, Arlon, Spiez-Einigen, and Morken, though, conversion did not mean the rejection of a cultural and political tradition. It meant instead the confirmation of tradition through the acceptance of a new and more powerful victory-giver, Christ. The benefits of such a conversion could be shared with the past as well as with the future. - Patrick J. Geary (Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages, pages 35-41)

[p-artsypants]

Fanfiction of 2018

My 2018 New Years Resolution was to make my archived word count on FanFiction.net to 1,000,000. Which would mean writing 250,000 words in one year.

I exceeded that goal by 23,841 words.

Once I took a step back to see what all I wrote, I was a little surprised! There were stories on there that I felt like I wrote at least two years ago. But no, I just pumped out that much.

This includes:

Aftermath- (Finished) Final Fantasy XV- It was the will of the Astrals that the line of Lucis continue. So Noctis wakes up with a sword in his chest. That's just the first in a series of roadblocks keeping him from his happy ending. One-shot 11,163 words

Requiem for Pitioss- (Unfinished) Final Fantasy XV- "O King. The god's have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle's calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was." Noctis looked up, hopeful. "But she can return!" Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers. 12,591 words

The Dame and the Daemon- (Finished) Final Fantasy XV- The daemon had yet to attack, only turn her around in its claws. Luna panted as her heart hammered in her chest. It was studying her, curiosity in its haunting blue eyes. "...not like others..." it said with a familiar voice."...Noctis?" Scourge AU Two Shot 8,849 words

Arcadia or Bust- (Unfinished) Trollhunters- “Yeah, so mom…we made it to New Jersey, and we’re all safe...but the Heartstone isn’t really...impressive. So, we’re bringing what we found home. See you soon!” In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens. 38,006 words

Boy Toy- (Finished) How to Train Your Dragon- At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It's safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?) 35,429 words

No, You Go First- (Unfinished?) How to Train Your Dragon- The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow. 11,886 words

In Due Time- (Finished) How to Train Your Dragon- As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine...one that doesn't exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it's only a few days, what could go wrong? 16,304 words

Nine Lives- (Almost Finished) Miraculous Ladybug-When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up Adrien? I'll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up Adrien. 55,443 words

What a Mess We’re In- (Finished) Miraculous Ladybug- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she's going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat's reaction is not what she's expecting. 2,856 words

Amalgam- (Finished) Miraculous Ladybug- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible’ he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. 4,939 words

Sing We All Noel- (Finished) Miraculous Ladybug- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home. 5,459 words.

And then I finished up:

320 State Street- How to Train Your Dragon- Gobber's Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for) 71,857 words

The North Tower- How to Train Your Dragon- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales...and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower. A (not so) short spooky story in time for halloween. 44,054 words.

Also this year, I got:

User Subscriptions: 39

Kudos: 2645

Comment Threads: 481

Bookmarks: 591

Subscriptions: 647

Word Count: 534378 (Because I transfered old fics over to Ao3)

Hits: 32650

In 2019, I don’t have any specific writing goals like I did last year, but I hope to finish Requiem for Pitioss, My Kingdom for a Heart, and Arcadia or Bust. It just depends on where my interest takes me. As well as my Fic to do list:

Thank you all for following me on this journey, and for all the comments, likes, and reblogs. Those are my primary motivators lol.

This year, I had another milestone. I graduated from college! I’m hoping this year will bring a job that I will enjoy, and further happiness in my relationship with my honeybear.

I hope you all had a nice New Years and here’s to a better 2019.

[mangaeden]

Tower of God 481

[architecturever]

The monumental tombs are relics of Egypt's Old Kingdom era and were constructed some 4,500 years ago. Egypt's pharaohs expected to become gods in the afterlife. To prepare for the next world they erected temples to the gods and massive pyramid tombs for themselves��filled with all the things each ruler would need to guide and sustain himself in the next world. Pharaoh Khufu began the first Giza pyramid project, circa 2550 B.C. His Great Pyramid is the largest in Giza and towers some 481 feet (147 meters) above the plateau. Its estimated 2.3 million stone blocks each weigh an average of 2.5 to 15 tons. This image is from Egypt From Above. .@natgeoindia #architecturever_ ▪️For More Follow : @architecturever_. @greenarchitexture ▪️Credit Or Removal :( DM ) Or Gmail #architecturever_#greenarchitexture#greenarchitecture#allofarchitecture#contemporaryarchitecture#paarchitecture#architectureview#whatarender#architectureilike#archimpressive#parametric#architizer#architectureminimal#architexture#architecturedetails#indianarchitecture#hyderabad#bangalore#mumbai#india#chennai#letstalkarch#delhi#chandighar#ahmedabad#goa https://www.instagram.com/p/Bv2FLibB0K9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=2ne7ampx2pbt

[bforbetterthanyou]

Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul.

481 years ago today, Anne Boleyn was executed at the Tower of London. She made this speech as she stood on the scaffold. Her execution was witnessed by Thomas Cromwell, Charles Brandon (1st Duke of Suffolk), Henry Fitzroy (the King's illegitimate son), and others.

[planegypttours]

Cairo Short Breaks

Discover the twinkling city of Cairo with CairoShort Breaks, and choose from outstanding cairo weekend breaks, which cover nearly all the famous destinations in the city.  A trip to the Giza Pyramids is a must when you visit Cairo, a journey to Memphis and Sakkara will take you even further back in time, visit Old Cairo is a spiritual journey to the Coptic and Islamic Era, moreover you will get to choose from optional tours to visit the famous archaeological sites.

Scout around some of the most famous attractions in the world with Pyramids of Giza, It is the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, It has been estimated that these pyramids were constructed as tombs for the kings; Cheops, Chephren and Mykerinus, Egypt's pharaohs expected to become gods in the afterlife. To prepare for the next world they erected temples to the gods and massive pyramid tombs for themselves—filled with all the things each ruler would need to guide and sustain himself in the next world, Pharaoh Khufu began the first Giza pyramid project, circa 2550 B.C. His Great Pyramid is the largest in Giza and towers some 481 feet (147 meters) above the plateau. Its estimated 2.3 million stone blocks each weigh an average of 2.5 to 15 tons.Khufu's son, Pharaoh Khafre, built the second pyramid at Giza, circa 2520 B.C. The third of the Giza Pyramids is considerably smaller than the first two. Built by Pharaoh Menkaure circa 2490 B.C., it featured a much more complex mortuary temple,then proceed to the sphinx, is a mythical creature with the head of a human and the body of a lion, the last spot will be Egyptian museum which  takes pride of place in Downtown Cairo, is home to an extensive collection of ancient Egyptian antiquities. It has 120,000 items, with a representative amount on display, the remainder in storerooms, There are two main floors in the museum, the ground floor and the first floor. On the ground floor there is an extensive collection of papyrus and coins used in the Ancient world. The numerous pieces of papyrus are generally small fragments, due to their decay over the past two millennia.

Discover the best of Cairo and visit the religious sightseeing in Cairo through amazing , Hangingchurch which is considered one of the most famous churches in the Middle East that was built on the ruins of two old towers that remained from an old fortress called the Fortress of Babylon, takes the shape of a basilica with a wooden roof in the shape of Noah's Ark. its interior includes about 13 flourishing pillars which shed light on the stories of Jesus and his 12 apostles, The church was designed as a rectangle shape, it is 79.05 by 67.24 feet and 24.10 by 20.50 meters, feast your eyes watching Abu Serga Church,  is one of the oldest Coptic churches in Egypt, dating back to the 4th century, It was burned during the fire of Fustat, Although the church was restored several times (11th and 17th century, the last restoration was undertaken in 2000), it still preserves its Medieval charm. BenEzra synagogue,  sometimes referred to as the El-Geniza Synagogue or the Synagogue of the Levantines (al-Shamiyin), is situated in Old Cairo, was originally a Christian church that the Copts had to sell, to the Jews, in 882A.D in order to pay the annual taxes imposed by the Muslim. at night optional to visit the Sound & Light Show in Cairo, or optional dinner cruise with belly dancer, around the Hanging Church which is considered one of the most famous churches in the Middle East that was built on the ruins of two old towers that remained from an old fortress called the Fortress of Babylon.

                                                   Cairo Short Breaks

Overview:

Cairo Short Breaks will allow you to explore different eras of the Pharaohs, Visit pyramids and sphinx with Cairo Short Breaks, delve into traditional atmosphere, envisage that you could travel back in time 7000 years via cairo short breaks

Itinerary:

Day 01: Arrrive Cairo

Plan Egypt Tours delegate with his own distinct perspective to keep an eye for our clients will be waiting for you at Cairo Airport, you will find yourself totally in the moment, Plan Egypt Tours delegate will transfer you to your hotel to relax, check in and overnight in Cairo.

Day 02: Pyramids, Egyptian Museum, Old Cairo

Today is the first morning in Egypt, Once you wake up, get your breakfast at hotel, then Plan Egypt Tours guide will escort you to start an exciting Cairo Tours, array of visits are waiting for you, watch the glory of Giza pyramids, it is a must for a real traveler, if you want to see your best travel photos, go to the panorama area to take marvelous photos for the three pyramids, then proceed to the sphinx and the valley temple, relax and have your lunch at local restaurant, next move the Egyptian Museum, scout the treasures of Tut Ankh Amun, your last visit will be to Old Cairo, visit the hanging church, Abu Serga Church, and Ben Ezra synagogue, finally your guide will escort you back to your hotel, at night optional to visit the Sound & Light Show in Cairo, or optional dinner cruise with belly dancer, overnight in Cairo.

Day 03: Final Departure

Today is the final morning in Egypt, Once you wake up, get your breakfast at hotel, then Plan Egypt Tours delegate will transfer you to Cairo airport to catch your flight back home.

Included:

Meet & assist at Cairo Airport upon arrival and transfer to hotel by air-conditioned vehicle

02 Nights accommodation in Cairo on Bed & Breakfast

01 Day Excursion in Cairo as mentioned at the above program

English speaking guide in Cairo

01 Lunch at local restaurant in Cairo

01 Bottle of Mineral Water to each person

All transfers in Cairo by air-conditioned vehicle

All service charges and taxes

Assist & transfer to Cairo International airport on your final departure.

Excluded:

International flight

Visa to Egypt

Optional Tours

Tip.

FOR MORE:CairoShort Breaks

E-mail  : sales@planegypttours.com

Web site: www.planegypttours.com

[allbestnet]

All-Time 1000 Books  (400-500)

400. The Walking Dead (2003) by Robert Kirkman

401. Hush, Hush (2009) by Becca Fitzpatrick

402. Bridge to Terabithia (1977) by Katherine Paterson

403. From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (1967) by E.L. Konigsburg

404. Paradise Lost (1667) by John Milton

405. Moonstone (1868) by Wilkie Collins

406. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

407. Lovely Bones (2002) by Alice Seybold

408. Paper Towns (2008) by John Green

409. The Book of Mormon by Joseph Smith Jr.

410. Underworld (1997) by Don DeLillo

411. Where the Sidewalk Ends (1974) by Shel Silverstein

412. Battle Royale (1999) by Koushun Takami

413. The Haunting of Hill House (1959) by Shirley Jackson

414. Cry, the Beloved Country (1948) by Alan Paton

415. Flowers of Evil by Charles Baudelaire

416. Waiting for the Barbarians (1980) by J.M. Coeztee

417. The Left Hand of Darkness (1969) by Ursula Le Guin

418. Les Liaisons Dangereuses (1782) by Pierre-Ambroise-Francois Choderlos de Laclos

419. Bridget Jones's Diary (1996) by Helen Fielding

420. Kane and Abel (1979) by Jeffrey Archer

421. Martian Chronicles (1950) by Ray Bradbury

422. Delirium (2011) by Lauren Oliver

423. Borrowers (1952) by Mary Norton

424. Origin of Species (1977) by Charles Darwin

425. Steve Jobs (2011) by Walter Isaacson

426. The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886) by Thomas Hardy

427. Killer Angels (1974) by Michael Shaara

428. The Poisonwood Bible (1998) by Barbara Kingsolver

429. Guns, Germs, and Steel (1997) by Jared Diamond

430. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee (1970) by Dee Alexander Brown

431. Book of Job by God

432. The Dark Tower by Stephen King

433. Under the Dome (2009) by Stephen King

434. The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress (1966) by Robert A. Heinlein

435. Stories (1971) by Franz Kafka

436. Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (1889) by Mark Twain

437. Joy Luck Club (1989) by Amy Tan

438. The Sneetches and Other Stories (1989) by Dr. Seuss

439. The Blind Assassin (2000) by Margaret Atwood

440. The Graveyard Book (2008) by Neil Gaiman

441. A Suitable Boy (1993) by Vikram Seth

442. Sister Carrie (1900) by Theodore Dreiser

443. Constitution by United States

444. Notebook (1996) by Nicholas Sparks

445. Silas Marner by George Eliot

446. The Omnivore's Dilemma (2006) by Michael Pollan

447. Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (1987) by Fannie Flagg

448. Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba

449. The Last Song (2009) by Nicholas Sparks

450. The Big Sleep (1939) by Raymond Chandler

451. Unwind (2007) by Neal Shusterman

452. A Walk to Remember (1999) by Nicholas Sparks

453. Republic by Plato

454. Little House in the Big Woods (1932) by Laura Ingalls Wilder

455. The Sandman (1996) by Neil Gaiman

456. Speak (1999) by Laurie Halse Anderson

457. The Selfish Gene (1976) by Richard Dawkins

458. Lorna Doone (1869) by R.D. Blackmore

459. The Far Pavilions (1978) by M.M. Kaye

460. Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais

461. The Maze Runner (2009) by James Dashner

462. Bonfire of the Vanities (1987) by Tom Wolfe

463. Glass by

464. House at Pooh Corner (1928) by A.A. Milne

465. Tawny Man by Robin Hobb

466. Kafka on the Shore (2002) by Haruki Murakami

467. Portrait of a Lady (1881) by Henry James

468. Good Earth (1931) by Pearl S. Buck

469. Tuck Everlasting (1975) by Natalie Babbitt

470. Make Way for Ducklings (1941) by Robert McCloskey

471. Red Harvest (1929) by Dashiell Hammett

472. The Andromeda Strain (1969) by Michael Crichton

473. Naked Lunch (1959) by William Burroughs

474. If You Give a Mouse a Cookie (1985) by Laura Joffe Numeroff

475. The Other Boleyn Girl (2001) by Philippa Gregory

476. Angle of Repose (1971) by Wallace Stegner

477. Hunger (1890) by Knut Hamsun

478. The Beach (1996) by Alex Garland

479. Hansel and Gretel by Engelbert Humperdinck

480. The Last Lecture (2008) by Randy Pausch

481. Power and the Glory (1940) by Graham Greene

482. Pygmalion (1912) by George Bernard Shaw

483. My Name Is Asher Lev (1972) by Chaim Potok

484. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007) by Sherman Alexie

485. Cold Mountain (1997) by Charles Frazier

486. Horton Hears a Who! (1982) by Dr. Seuss

487. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926) by Agatha Christie

488. Berlin Alexanderplatz (1929) by Alfred Doblin

489. Cider House Rules (1985) by John Irving

490. Goedel, Escher, Bach (1979) by Douglas Hofstadter

491. The Stars My Destination (1956) by Alfred Bester

492. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870) by Jules Verne

493. The English Patient (1992) by Michael Ondaatje

494. Outlander (1991) by Diana Gabaldon

495. Sentimental Education (1869) by Gustave Flaubert

496. Marley & Me (2005) by John Grogan

497. Oedipus Rex by Sophocles

498. Possession: A Romance (1990) by A.S. Byatt

499. As You Like It by William Shakespeare

500. The House of the Spirits (1982) by Isabel Allende

[addictionstories]

9

I went home and waited. An hour and nothing. Then two. I texted her asking when she wanted me to pick her up to go to her parent’s place. By that time it was about 10 o’clock. She texted back, explaining that she was getting tired and that it would be easier if we headed back in the morning. I reluctantly agreed. I was frustrated and upset but trying to calm myself down. This was definitely not part of the plan, but I tried to rationalize it. After a month in jail maybe it was reasonable for her to take one night to blow off steam, to celebrate, I told myself.  But with Slim? That was a disaster anyway you looked at it. But if we went back in the morning things would be okay, I told myself.

The next morning I called her. There was a curious calm in her voice, a distant, almost robotic quality.  I got the impression she’d been up all night. When I asked when we were going to her parent’s house she was vague, saying something about needing me to bring her stuff to Slim’s place first.  Her bag was still in my car.  Why the hell would she need that if she was headed home? I thought. I was starting to lose my patience. Then when she asked me if I would pick up Alex and bring him over to Slims, I snapped. “I want you to pay me back,” I demanded.  “The thousand, I want it back!”

“How?”

“I don’t care how. This wasn’t part of the deal. You were supposed to go home yesterday. You’re not going to finance your destruction with my money!  This is bullshit!”

“I don’t have the money,” she said.

“I’ll ask your parent’s for it then.”

“You can’t”

I hung up. A few hours later I dialed her parent’s house. Her mom answered the phone. I explained where Naomi was and what had happened. “She’s back at that house on the north side,” I said. Her mother was exceedingly gracious and apologetic. You could hear the compassion in her voice, as if she knew this would be the outcome all along.

“Look, I have her clothes and stuff. But I’m too upset to see her right now. I’d like to drop that stuff off at your house if that’s okay,” I said.

She agreed.

Later that night, Naomi and I exchanged heated texts. She was trying to guilt trip me. You’re not going to talk to me now? Now I have no reason to get sober,” she texted.

“Of course you do. Do it for yourself,”I texted back.

The next day I drove to her parent’s shop in Central Square.  Her father was perfectly cordial and upbeat when he greeted me.  He thanked me and handed me a check for my portion of the money.  As I pulled away I looked at the auto shop and across the street to the church on the corner.  A wave of sadness swept over me as I realized this would be the last time I’d be there.

When I got home I texted her. “You’ve hurt me terribly. Please don’t contact me again.”  That was it I thought--closure.  I could put the situation behind me now.

That night I played a gig downtown at Pastabilities and my parents came for dinner. On my break, I joined them at their table.  The hum of the restaurant--the servers hustling trays, the conversations--took my mind off of Naomi temporarily. At that point, I still felt okay. The sting of the situation hadn’t fully set in yet. I looked at my phone and saw an incoming call from Naomi, but ignored it.

I had a restless night of sleep that evening, lying awake to past 4 am, replaying the events of the last two days over and over in my mind, wondering if I’d done the right thing. Did I act prematurely?  Maybe she would have gone back home. Maybe I fucked everything up.  I started to second guess myself and I felt guilty.

Late the next afternoon, my friend Jeff picked me up for a gig in Oswego. It was mid December and dark and raining. We headed up 481 through Fulton past the old Nestle chocolate factory, now half demolished, and into Oswego, going right by the Oswego County Jail where I had my visits with Naomi. My phone, which had been constantly crackling with texts from her, was deadly silent now, a cold slab of plastic in my hand. The reality was setting in... the sense of loss, the yearning. The situation had reduced me to mist emotionally. I was completely hollowed out, a cardboard cutout of a man. I did my best to keep it together, making conversation with Jeff as he played a CD of a guitar player he’d been checking out, but I was beginning to wonder how I was going to make it through the evening.

It was a standoff now, to see which one of us would contact the other first. I couldn’t accept that we would never talk again. That was a horror, unimaginable to me. I laid my phone on the top of my Roland organ and kept my eyes glued to it as we played, like I was in a trance. After the first set I stepped outside and stood under the awning of the liquor store a few doors down, glancing up at the clock tower above the bank across the street and then over to the pizza shop on the corner, trying to clear my head.  I wondered what she was feeling. I knew she was numbing herself with drugs, but was she thinking about me?  Did she miss me?  I’m not going to win this one, I thought.  I broke down and texted her.

After the gig we talked on the phone. Hearing her voice was healing and energizing. She told me she was staying a house on Spring Street on the north side of the city. I headed over and parked outside. Ten minutes later she came out and got in the car. I gave her a long hug. She looked weary and disheveled, her white winter coat dirt stained, her hair unkempt.  But she still looked beautiful to me.

“Look, I’m sorry about everything,” I said. “But you were supposed to go home. We had a plan. And then you just took off. You can understand how I feel, right?”

“Yeah, but I was going to go home. I just had to take care of a few things first. But you wouldn’t bring me my stuff. And then you brought it to my parent’s.”

“Look, I don’t want to fight anymore. It’s in the past now.”

“Okay. I’m stressed right now.  I haven’t slept or eaten. Can we go get some food?”

The McDonald’s at the truck stop on 7th North Street was the closest place, less than a mile away. We headed over. Inside Naomi drifted over to the coffee bar. I made my way down an aisle of candy bars then wandered past a section of New York state knickknacks: mugs, baseball hats, Niagara Falls shot glasses, key chains with tiny flasks attached, little snow globes. The place was bustling for 2 am, with truckers refueling and a bar crowd trickling in for late night food.  At the McDonald’s counter, Naomi ordered two cheese burgers without pickles and onions, an order of fries and an Oreo McFlurry with extra Oreo.

“I have to pick up some food for the girls I’m staying with. Is that okay?”

I rolled my eyes slightly but nodded in approval. We left with a bulging bag of burgers, big macs and fries, and a drink holder with four bucket-sized sodas which cost nearly forty dollars.

It was my birthday a few nights later and my parents took me out for dinner. My brother and his girlfriend joined us. We went to my favorite Italian restaurant, Joey's, on Carrier Circle but my mind wasn’t right.  When I wasn’t with Naomi I was nervous, distracted and anxious.  The uncertainty of not knowing what was going on and where she was was killing me. We were still texting texting everyday, but there were long stretches of time when I wouldn’t hear back from her, which was always the worst as I wondered what could be happening. Everyone at dinner seemed to be having a good time, talking, enjoying their food.  I was wrestling with a deep inner melancholia, but I smiled as I worked on my filet mignon with mushrooms, and texted Naomi under the table. “I’m eating steak for my birthday!  I’ll save you some.  I miss you!” I texted.

“Well, come and see me,” she texted back.

After dinner, I headed over to the north side.  Naomi was staying at a house off of Park Street. I took a left at Holy Trinity church--its twin steeples looming over the neighborhood like ominous giants in the white moonlight. Halfway down the street, I parked in front of a run-down white aluminum sided house.  A few minutes later Naomi open the door and motioned for me to come in.

The floor of the house was a sea of dirt and debris: broken glass, clothes, bottles, papers.  We walked through the living room, past a mentally disabled man sitting on a couch watching tv and mumbling to himself, and around the corner to a bedroom. Inside Alex was sitting on a mattress on the floor.  The place was downright squalid.  I took my jacket off and hung it on the handle of a broom resting against the wall.  Naomi sat down on the bed. I remained standing.

“We’re doing a detox,” Naomi said. “We’re six hours in to it.”

Detox, I thought. That was encouraging, but could it work? I wondered. Could they really do that successfully on their own?  I handed Naomi the styrofoam box with what was left of my filet and glanced over at the corner where a roach was scurrying down the wall, making a beeline for my jacket.  I rushed over and grabbed the coat just in time. Man that was close, I thought. Naomi and Alex chuckled, and even I had to laugh.  It was great to check up on Naomi and make sure she was okay, but what was I doing in this God awful place?  And on my birthday. The smell in the house was a mix of mold, cigarettes and cat urine. After a few more minutes of conversation, Naomi walked me out.  I stepped gingerly through the garbage, trying not to foul my dress shoes.

I was going further and further down a labyrinth, getting mired in quicksand. My mind was completely locked down now.  It was an odd mix of excitement, fondness, anxiety and anguish.  I was convinced that I knew the real side of Naomi, the authentic side. She wasn’t meant for this lifestyle. No one was, of course, but especially not her. But when would she realize that? If I believed it strongly enough would that convince her?

It was Christmas eve a few nights later and we had dinner at my brother’s house. Christmas Eve is the biggest celebration of the year in my family and my mother and aunt cook a feast that includes several different types of fish as well as pasta. Everyone coalesced over the meal, wine and the warm conversation, but I was withdrawn. I was the oddball of the family.  Well into my 40s with no real direction in life, I was languishing, floundering. Sleepwalking through the years. Living life on the sidelines. Although I’d had my own places in the past, I was back at home now, sleeping in my childhood bedroom at my parent’s house. And I was ambivalent about it.  I wasn’t happy  I wasn’t especially unhappy.  It was a weird and gray middle zone. I always thought that things would somehow magically fall into place for me by this age, and now I saw Naomi as a new beginning, a second chance.  If I could help her then maybe in some way, I could help myself.

After the meal I poured a large glass of wine, went downstairs to the finished basement and stretched out on the couch by the fireplace. I covered myself in pillows and thought about Naomi. Christmas Eve, and she still hadn’t gone home. What was she doing right now, I wondered, and why wasn’t she with her family?

A few nights after Christmas, I went to Saratoga to do a gig at a fancy whisky bar I’ve been playing for years.  It was a long, lonely drive I’d done many times, a 100 mile stretch east on the New York State Thruway into Fultonville and onto Route 29 and through the countryside into town. I thought about the first time I made this trip on a foggy April night twelve years ago. I was a younger man.  The zeitgeist was brighter. The early 2000s, a time of abundance. A time of possibility. Post 911, but pre smart phone, pre social media. Life had a slower pace. People still talked to each other. The halcyon days. And now here I was, over a decade later, playing the same gig.  And had anything really changed in my life in the ensuing years?   I still had the same unrealized dreams. The same goals I hadn’t reached.  I still had the same yearning, the same hunger, the same searching for something. What is was, I couldn’t exactly say, but I knew I hadn’t found it.

After the gig, I texted Naomi. She was still at the roach house off Park Street. There were others heroin addicts living there too: a husband and wife, a middle-aged woman, and various interlopers who wandered in and out at all hours of the day and night. They’d pool their resources and take trips to the grocery store or the dollar store. It was a collective or sorts, a communal drug house. I was learning from Naomi that there were several of these houses in the city, and she was bouncing around between them.  I wondered about the owners of these places. Did they know about the drug activity?  Did they care?  Were they part of it too?  Naomi would occasionally refer to the house off Park Street as Dom’s place, although it was never really clear who Dom was.

The next day, Naomi and I made a trip to the dollar store where she picked up glow sticks, a phone card and breakfast cereal. It was getting to the point where I could tell what drugs she was on just by looking at her and observing her behavior. She was a poly addict. Heroin, crack cocaine and molly (or ecstasy) were all in the rotation.  She was known to use meth too, but not that often and she wasn’t a huge fan of the drug. In my opinion molly was the mildest of the drugs she was on and it seemed to give her an upbeat and even clarity, bringing out her natural personality. But they molly she was getting was contaminated with meth much of the time. And meth produced a paranoid psychosis when she was on it that was very difficult to manage. One night--after some bad molly--she kicked out the heating vents in my car and was convinced her father had died, which, of course, wasn’t the case. But that afternoon at the dollar store she was congenial, gliding through the aisles in a mellow, carefree manner.  I dropped her off back at the house and gave her a hug and we made plans to hang out the next day.